Legends: Tan and Wolf
by Tigerdust
Summary: Like all timeless stories, the story of Tan Man and Mr. Wolf begins with Once Upon A Time. Everything that happens between then and happily ever after for Castiel, also known as Tan Man, and Dean Winchester, or Mr. Wolf, is negotiable. Fairytale Destiel AU.


Once upon a time, there was a village that was said to live on the edge of forever. It was a quiet place, shunning most technologies, living by oil lamps, firelight, and pasturing farms for miles until it reached the border of the surrounding mountain mists. On the opposite side was a forest and inside that forest was Grandmother's cabin. Grandmother's cabin was a legend, said to exist to keep the world stable. The village lived to keep the cabin, and by proxy, the world stable.

Inside the village, six families stood guard to keep Grandmother's cabin safe, each sending its most capable child there once every century. In this fashion, the village flourished and the outside world knew of it not except for the occassional advancement, such as the procedure that create the silk cotton polyblend.

The time came for the first family to send its tribute. They sent a son named Gabriel, whom was known throughout the village as the Trickster. Gabriel was a restless boy, unattentive in study or deed- except for the lasses of the other family. He did not reach his destination out of fear. His screams came from the forest one night.

The second family sent Samandriel to follow Gabriel. Samandriel was different from Gabriel in every way. He was attentive to both study and deed, only excelling both these operations with his pottery. Into the woods he went, three carved bowls for Grandmother in his pack. His screams too, rose into the night.

The third family trembled to send one of their own. The third family was quiet, peculiar, and the matriarch Anna wished to rise against the town. She did not wish to see her children suffer. And then-a son- her quiet son answered the call. He left in the dead of night, beneath a chill. They say you can still hear her cries through those of a bereft mortal mother.

Castiel was the quiet son of the third family, observant and wise. He carried some food for the journey, a simple basket of good cheese, a small portion of wine, and bread baked over an open fire by his own hand. He walked a good many mile into the forest without making a sound, listening for the breath which had killed Gabriel and Samandriel.

Castiel held no fear of the forest. He walked tall and proud in his tan trenchcoat. The tan trenchcoat has been a gift from his father before his father had passed. Anna had wept the first time she had seen him wearing it. He wore it with pride and it looked as though it were fit for him. In whispers, the people of the village called him The Tan Man.

The Tan Man walked the path, circuitous nine circles, ever slimming and looping into each other as a labyrinth. He observed the growing mushrooms of the forest, the moss that bedded atop the fertile ground. Morning came and went, the day burning the dew and fog, the night replacing it. It was on the second day that he first heard the gunning howl, half human cough and half eerie roar.

Another fool would have thought that it came from the forest.

Castiel came to a clearing and closed his eyes in the darkness, hearing the howl. It was hard to tell where or how it might approach, but he let a breath in and out slowly and reached into his basket for the knives he had brought to cut bread and cheese with. These knives would defend him.

Pure silver struck into bony claw, the sickening crunch sound meeting surprised growl. Castiel opened his eyes, glaring, and pushed back the creature until knife stuck tree and the beast began to flail and cringe, dark blood like syrup moving toward the ground slowly.

The beast ceased flailing and a hearty laugh started in the bottom of his throat. "So they finally sent a warrior in. Better than the other two," he snarled.

"What are you? Why do you stop us?" Castiel asked, holding steady to the knife.

The creature blinked, the wolf like features nearly softening into the form of a man in a green flak jacket. "You know who I am. They call me Mr. Wolf. I was once man, but my sentence for my crimes was to hunt the villagers sent to Grandmother. They call me Dean. They call me Night. Fear me."

"I fear nothing," Castiel echoed, staring the man thing down. "You do not impress me."

"Oh, I will," Dean replied, skillfully pulling his hand away from the knife, a quick jarring saw breaking knuckle from finger. "Got your knife."

"You've destroyed your hand."

Dean shrugged. "Nah, it'll rebuild. Curse of the forest. Wanna play a little game, kid?"

Tan Man held his ground. "My name is Castiel, child of third family known as Thursday. I will not fail to reach Grandmother's cabin. And you will not stop me."

"Doesn't asnwer my question," Dean said while licking his lips.

"It doesn't have to. I am not a child. I am not here to play chase or tag or war. I am here to complete my mission and return home."

"Gabriel and Samandriel didn't return home," Dean growled, "and you would know how they would grovel and plead for themselves. But you won't do that, will ya? Huh? Poor little Castiel, third of the order to die. Then chaos will come," light refracted from Dean's crazed gaze, "and i will be free."

"No one is ever that free," Castiel said as he threw the wine bottle with skill and the slivers of glass broke Dean's face.

"Damn it," Dean growled as Castiel fled onto the next trail, leaving his knife and saving the remaining two in his basket. "You can run but you can't hide! I'll find you Castiel!"

That was the end of the first day. Two more days like this occurred, each one resulting in a meeting of Tan Man and Mr. Wolf. At each meeting, Castiel lost another knife and only once did Dean almost gain the upper hand.

A fourth night approached and Castiel was nearly near the cabin when he heard the whistle of one of his knifes as it landed near his foot. He stopped, quirking his brow.

"How long must we play this game?"

"Until you learn the rules, Castiel."

"I know the rules, Dean. You do not seem to understand."

"I'll make you a bet. You keep walking the forest, don't go in the cabin. I'll let you live here, with me. It ain't so bad. Got a younger brother, book smart. You'd like him."

"How dare you," Castiel glared into the shadows. "Step out, stop hiding."

Dean walked into the moonlight, stepping up onto the little dirt hill nearly swept away by rainfall. In his fingers were the remaining two glinting knives, obsidian handles shining deep in the moonlight and sharp silver tips reflecting the absent stars. "Tough words for a guy with no weaponry."

"I don't need those knives to win."

"No?" Dean quirked his brow. "Seems to me you actually might. Aren't you, you know, scared?"

Castiel shrugged. "If you kiill me, another with come. Fourth family is much stronger than I. They will send someone who can end you. They will send Naomi."

"How dare you," Dean snarled, "you think this is a game?! You think I do this for my own health?! You don't even know what's in that cabin! How do you know it's not something ten times worse than me?!"

"I don't. Do you know what's in the cabin?"

"That's not the point!"

Castiel relaxed, clasping his hands behind his back. "Yes it is. Or you would have killed me already. Come in with me, then. Perhaps Grandmother will let you free."

"You're lying. You're bargaining for you life," Dean snapped, coming close enough that he could breath heaving breaths onto Castiel's face.

"Have you known me yet to bargain for my life?"

"I'm not the most dangerous thing in this forest, kid."

"Not by far," Castiel said defiantly. "And I am not a child. We are less than half a days journey from the cabin. Come."

With that, Castiel turned his back on Dean and began walking.

Dean followed suit. "Hey Cas, who gave you that jacket?"

"It belonged to my father," Castiel answered. "And his father before him. It stretches back through our family far longer than anyone can remember. It lives on in heroic tales that predate time. Why?"

"It looks," Dean said after thinking for a moment, Castiel looking back as they stared at each other, "familiar. That's all."

"Interesting," Castiel said and turned back to the trail, away from Dean's harsh glare in the moonlight.

They came to the cabin, walking in silence only broken by things living in the forest beyond their line of vision. Dean whistled when they reached the cabin.

"Needs a bit of a dusting. This what you were expectin'?"

Castiel looked at the nearly ramshackle and unkempt place with drawn curtains and no candelight to ward off the darkness, and let out a very low sigh that Dean could barely hear. "No."

Castiel walked toward the door, but the pressure of Dean's hand over his own stopped him. Castiel looked at the wolf man with a hardness in his eyes. "Let me open the door."

"Nuh-uh. Could be a trap."

"And you would care about this why?"

"Look, you're the first non-idiot that damn village has sent for about three lifetimes. If you got chopped in half by some psychopath just behind the door with zealous intent, I'd feel bad. And that's best case scenario."

Castiel ignored the warmth of Dean's hand over his own. "What is worst case scenario for you?"

"I am," Dean said low enough that only Castiel could hear.

Castiel looked on Dean for a moment, blinking and observing the way that Dean's posture changed. "You care if I become like you."

Dean nodded. "Nobody should live this way. Least of all some poor bastard sent for slaughter."

"I was sent because I am the best."

"The best of five? The best of three? The best what?"

Cas slipped his hand out from beneath Dean's grip. "Just the best. Now move."

Dean did as he was told, raising his hands in surrender. "You'll see."

"See what?" Castiel said as he opened the door, stepping into the cabin. The place looked nearly abandoned, dust and cobwebs lining shelves of books just off near an unused bedroom. They toured the small home, Dean finally sitting in a rocking chair.

"Worse than that, no grandma."

"But no psychopaths."

Dean snorted. "You think that's a bright side? What now?"

"Perhaps we should try the kitchen," Castiel said, looking at a room onto the side. "It's the only room we couldn't visualize without walking in. Perhaps there will be something there."

"Thinking with head or stomach?"

"We'd have to try eventually."

Dean shrugged, rising from the rocking chair. "Fine. But if this kills me, I'm gonna make sure my damn wolf spirit haunts you for the rest of your natural born life."

"You're so dramatic," Castiel said as he turned away and walked into the kitchen. The kitchen was empty, save for a small purple orb glowing on the table.

"What in the hell is that?" Dean called out loudly, causing Castiel to jump slightly.

"I would say that's Grandmother."

"What do you mean that's Grandmother?! It's a damn glowing fog in a jar!"

Castiel looked at Dean. "Have you lived in the forest so long that you no longer have faith?"

Dean followed closely behind Castiel as Castiel sat in a kitchen chair near the table and reached out to the orb slowly. Dean's hand closed around his for a second time, stopping him from touching the orb, fingertips hovering together. "No, I've lived in the forest long enough that I'm skeptical of all kinds of shit."

Castiel shook his head. "You let go of my hand or you'll touch this orb with me."

Dean tightened his grip. "There are worse things."

"Worse things?"

"Yeah."

"Like what?"

"Like losing the only thing I've got to talk to within a five mile radius."

"We don't talk. And you have a brother."

Dean shook his head. "Let's just go."

"I have a job."

"Screw the job! What's the funky purple dust gonna care? This place's abandoned."

Castiel regarded Dean's exclamations for a moment and then moved their hands as one, until their fingers were placed against the orb. Immediately it lit up. "Grandmother, I am here. Castiel of the third village."

"And a wolf," a female voice came from the jar.

"He followed me, he is my charge," Castiel said with authority.

Charge? Dean mouthed with a questioning glance that Castiel shook away.

"Very well. You have come. You are the first in many years. The wolf has blood on his hand. Kill him."

"Why?" Castiel asked.

"Yeah, with all due respect ma'am, why kill the poor bastard wolf who just had the misfortune of bein' landed in this forest?" Dean said with sarcastic anger.

"This place is the last plane where things are. Here you are a wolf where once you were a living man. That is your curse. Villager, it is your duty to strike him down!"

"You have not answered my question, grandmother. Wisdom comes before force. Reason before insanity."

"You will kill him!"

"No." Castiel said quietly, looking at Dean who was looking back with wide eyes.

"Then I have no choice," the female voice calmed.

Bright lavender light filled the cabin and the light continued to move until it filled the sky and the ground. The earth began to shake.

"What the hell? Oh God damn, it burns," Dean said as he pulled his singed fingers away with Cas' hand, fingertips broken apart but charred. "What's going on?"

Castiel rose from his chair, trying to find even footing. "I'd suggest we leave the house before it caves in."

"After you, revolutionary," Dean said, motioning to the kitchen door.

Outside, Castiel and Dean bumped into each other as trees began to fell.

"Look out!" Dean growled, pushing Castiel out of the way of a particularly large tree and diving over the man in the tan trenchcoat.

"You, you saved me," Castiel said with light surprise in his voice as Dean lay atop him.

"Shit, I suppose I..." Dean said, his face glowing purple. He breathed in a jagged breath. "It burns."

Castiel put his hand up to Dean's face, cooling it and causing Dean to sigh. The purple glowed and his wolfish face transformed into a beautiful man. "You are..."

"What? I got an ingrown hair or something?"

"You're a man."

"What? I'm..." Dean left one hand for leverage, aware of still being on top of Castiel and how comfortably they fit. His face changed into one of delight, his face trembling with joy as he sat up. "I'm human. But how?"

Castiel sat up, facing crouched Dean as his entire body began to transform with the aid of purple light. "I don't know. Perhaps-"

Dean followed Cas' hand and saw a clearing grow out of nothing, a path into violet mountains. Dean looked from the mountains and back to Castiel. He rose slowly, still trembling. He held out his hand to Castiel. "Another adventure?"

"I'm not sure I've finished the first," Castiel said as he took Dean's hand in his own, rising and continuing to hold the hand.

Dean looked toward the mountain, hearing Castiel breathing by his side. "Well, there's no time like the present to find out if this is your adventure or mine."

Castiel shrugged. "Perhaps its both. Shall we see what Grandmother has in store?"

Dean smirked. "After you, Tan Man."

"I would not dream of beginning without you, Mr. Wolf."


End file.
